Page 10 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
‘Don’t fuck this one up, Jess.’
* * *
Valentina Smith, non-fiction editorial director, is one very polished-looking woman. She’s in her mid-thirties and really attractive: long, deeply tanned and willowy, and wearing clothes in camel, taupe and biscuit, which everyone knows is basically light beige, dark beige and medium beige. Her long, blown-out hair is highlighted in exactly the same three-tone colour as her outfit, her lips are painted a look-at-my-mouth! postbox red, and her only jewellery is a pair of understated, elegant, white-gold studs. There’s an awkward moment with my gigantic coat: Valentina insists I take it off immediately on account of this absurdly hot summer weather, but I’m conscious of Summer’s instructions to keep it on no matter what so that the dress underneath never sees the light of day. I don’t know what to do! Valentina starts to pull the coat off my shoulders, but I hiss ‘No!’ and clutch onto it fiercely, and then we have a kind of coat tug-of-war until Valentina − who I suspect usually gets what she wants − wins out and the coat is removed. Now my floral dress is revealed in all its hideous glory. Summer looks as if she’s mere seconds away from dying of embarrassment.
‘Oh, I am loving that dress!’ Valentina Smith says, her bright blue eyes appraising the outfit. ‘Very “Jen” fromDawson’s Creek, but just a touch slaggier. In an ironic way, of course. I was reading an article about the whole ironic fashion trend in theObserverlast month. I’m not sure I could ever quite pull it off myself, but you do it beautifully, Jess! Kudos.’
‘Thank you, Valentina Smith!’
I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about, but it all seems to be very positive. Iknewthis dress wasn’t so bad.
Summer and I sit down on a stiff buttercream sofa and I take a good look around at what I think is the most gorgeous office I’ve ever seen. It’s as stylish as Valentina is − all glass surfaces and huge windows, with bursts of colour coming only from vases of exotic-looking flowers and the beautifully glossy hardback books that fill up the entire back wall. If this were my office, I would have it exactly the same way. Except I’d probably add some fairy lights to brighten things up just a touch, and maybe a few beanbags to hang out and read all the books on. Ooh, and an amazing sound system so we could play some music and have a dance whenever the mood struck. Maybe even a funky disco ball …
Valentina pours fancy bottled water into three tall crystal glasses. I’m super thirsty from the blistering July heat, so I pick up one of the glasses right away and down the refreshingly cool liquid. Summer and Valentina watch as I gulp it all eagerly.
‘Aaaaaah! Necked it in one!’ I whisper, muffling a petite burp with my hand.
Summer gives me the frosty look. What’s up with her?
‘Quite!’ Valentina laughs and sits down behind her big desk. ‘So! How much do I adoreSummer in the City? The answer isa lot. It’s so “of the now”. So springy and fresh. Weloveit.’
Summer and I smile excitedly at each other. This is so cool. They love our site!
‘Obviously Summer here is the eponymous Summer of the website. Jessica, can you clarify what role you play in things?
‘Oh, I’m mainly the writer, but I do a bit of community management too − you know, look after the social media and admin-type stuff.’
Valentina glances at Summer, her brow puckered slightly. ‘Ah! OK! So you don’t actually write any of the content, Summer?’
Summer mumbles. ‘I, er … well … ’
The last time I heard Summer mumble was back in uni when the lecturer asked her a question about one of the assignments I’d written for her. Luckily we were sitting together and I was able to scribble the answer on my Pukka Pad for her to see before anyone realized. She flushes red. I can’t bear it.
‘We write together,’ I interject quickly. ‘Totally equal. Isn’t that right, Sum?’
Summer nods vigorously and swallows before saying, ‘Right, yes. And I’m the face of the site too. And I decide what and who exactly we write about.’
‘Great!’ Valentina smiles, showing off beautifully white, perfectly straight teeth. ‘I couldn’t be more excited to hear your pitch.’
So we begin.
* * *
It’s all going well. Really well. Summer is performing the first half of the presentation as planned, and I’m flicking the projector monitor through screen-grabs ofSummer in the Cityand all of our recent analytics. The page that shows our steep traffic climb over the past year elicits a gasp of delight from Valentina Smith, and her tongue almost lolls with pleasure when we show her how many of our product click-throughs result in a direct sale of that product. Summer is on fire – unwavering and poised. I get a tickle of pride as I watch her talk about our site.
It’s getting close to my turn to speak. I’m trying to stay cool, but my hands shake a little, something that’s never happened before. Since when did I start getting nervous? I clasp them together to keep them steady.
You can do this, Jess. Just picture the distant mountains of Peru, the hot bearded boy travellers, the beach parties, a whole new life. You could have it all if you get this book deal …
I take a deep breath, open my mouth and …
Summer doesn’t stop talking.
My first thought is that I’m trying to jump in too early. I look down at the notes. But no. She’s saying my words. She’s doing my bit of the pitch!
I cough lightly to get her attention as non-intrusively as possible, but she doesn’t notice, just continues speaking the words I’ve been going over the whole way here.
What is she doing? I watch her, and the feeling of pride I had a moment ago turns to one of despair. Maybe she’s nervous? Or is she just so in the flow that she can’t stop?
